Now till Death do us and After
by TheLookin'Glass
Summary: "You can't let them take you away for me. I'd die anyway." says Wanda. Innocent Pietro and Wanda! Not twincest, just sibling fluff!


Tales of starvation and winters of frostbite plagued Wanda's mind as listened to the wind whistle outside her family's caravan; powerful gusts scraped harshly against the supports of their shelter as the windchimes under the caravan's canopy sang an answer, hollow logs reverberating non rhythmically from line attached to a whittled hound of Django's. When she drifted off, the howls would morph into actual lobo bays and the chimes a beat of their paws thumping the ground as they chased. Leading the pack was the largest, fiercest monster: The Wolf. He who holds the Darkness.

She jerked out of the dream, blood thoroughly curdled. Promptly untangled the sheets and upswung off the enmeshing mattress, her discalced feet sending chills up her calves. Then scrambled atop the cabinets, her muscles still weak from slumber and stood, using the paint-chipped wall as support.

As soon as Wanda started to wobble, she leapt onto the top bunk and dived under the covers, successfully arousing her twin brother.

Pietro represented warmth, home, safety. As she would grudgingly admit inwardly, he was also the braver of the two, more willing to mingle and converse with others. Pietro would check under the lower bunk for monsters at night, even venture the darkness outside for her to ward away the wolves.

The Wolf was dangerous, could eat him up in a snap. Wanda wouldn't ask that of him.

The boy groggily blathered words she didn't understand. "What?" he made out, though not unkindly. He was more patient with her than Django was which is why she tended to favor her brother. He rolled over on his side so his back was to the window.

His sister's face appeared as she pulled down the covers, her head resting on the same pillow, her hair astray. Their eyes met, two pairs of blue, different shades.

Whispered, "Bad dream." It was assumed when he got a good look at her expression; they were not very uncommon.

She stayed silent about the matter because between the two, words were not needed for communication. "Hezekiah" the chief of the gypsy lot that traveled around Transia, "was telling us about the pioneers."

Pietro could not recall the colonial tale, having no patience for bonfire stories.

"These foolish settlers, they had heard of a shortcut through the mountains and strayed from the path, found them lost in the winters, then ate their own kin when they ran out of food." Wanda summarized. "It was one life sacrifice for the entire clan's survival."

Pietro was horrified, wondering what responsible adult would share something like this to a ten-year-old child. Granted, they were the same age (almost), but albeit she was usually the behaviorally mature twin, he was classified as emotionally mature-er.

"Mother says we haven't been earning as much [money] as we should," worried Wanda, implying the worst.

"Then we'll eat the horses." Pietro, allowing his mouth to run away from his brain. Her appalled reaction wasn't quite worth it.

"That's what they did!" her tone was over their hushed volume, and upon realizing this, concentrated for any signs of consciousness by their parental units. Continuing, "It wasn't enough, though, and I don't want to eat the horses either." Her family's horses, at least.

Pietro wasn't convinced. The animals were quite fat, and each caravan had at least one.

Wanda cut to real question. "Who will we eat?"

Neither Django nor Marya. The twins were no longer babes, yet too young to be very significant to the Gypsies' lifestyle. He sobered, as seriously as can be, "I won't let anyone hurt you." Ever.

This was a sparse moment in which his assumptions of her thoughts were incorrect. The girl pressed her palm to her brother's hand. "I can't let you be dined for us." She wouldn't be able to live with herself. "I'd die anyway." That's how much she would miss him.

Pietro would have protested if he hadn't felt the same. "We both die then. Of starvation."

They wouldn't be to eating anyone, then.

Gazing at each other, the moonlight illuminating their faces and sparkling in the whites of eyes and Pietro's strands of hair, both felt their fears fade away.

With her apprehensions gone, Wanda felt the time of day weigh down her eyelids, felt her yawn answer her brother's. They smiled.

"Love you, Pietro." she bid before shifting onto her other side. Brother or no, she didn't feel comfortable when people watched her sleep.

"Love you back, sis." Pietro flipped onto his front and draped an arm over her shoulders; just to be sure she was there.


End file.
